Stuck between a rock and a hard place

My son is a rockhound — someone who loves and collects rocks. 

I read a meme recently that perfectly summed up my existence as his parent:

“You know what’s strange about having kids? All of a sudden there are rocks in every room in your house, and you don’t even take them back outside. You just leave them there. You just accept that now you have indoor rocks.”

He’s eight and has been collecting rocks for a few years now. It started with him filling his pockets with random rocks he would find on walks.

Now, it’s become a whole operation. 

He’s more discerning about the rocks he collects. He organizes and labels them in plastic storage containers for safekeeping. He uses his rock tumbler to turn his ragged-edged rocks into smooth stones, testing the hardness for each to ensure they’ll survive the tumbler, then beginning the weeks-long process of tumbling to shape and smooth the edges of the rocks — a labor of love. 

My son’s most recent batch of tumbled rocks

One day my son came to work with me and a colleague came by to say hi. The two started chatting and quickly unearthed their mutual interest in rocks – my colleague sharing that he regularly goes on outings with a rockhounding group and my son discussing his DIY approach of finding rocks wherever he is. 

At first, I tried to participate in the conversation, but I couldn’t keep up with their eager enthusiasm. The two promised to share rocks with each other: my son offering part of a geode he smashed open and my colleague offering rocks he’s ready to part with as he downsizes his collection. 

I’ve become the default broker of these rock trades, stuck between a rock and, well, two rock enthusiasts.

I thought my role in this relationship wouldn’t last, but I underestimated the dedication of two people who are fascinated by rocks.

Rocks aren’t high on my list of interesting things to chat about but I’ve come to enjoy learning about the chalcopyrite and the coral with quartz that my colleague found on a recent rock expedition. Or watching my son carefully rummage through his rocks, trying to find something interesting to pass along that isn’t too sentimental. 

Just like how I’ve come to accept that I have indoor rocks, I’ve also come to accept my role in this, my edges being smoothed and shaped over time as I pass along stones and stories between two rockhounds. 

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Thanks to

Karena

,

Hesam Panahi

, and

Emma Dorge

for helping smooth and shape this one.